


Nothing Worth Loving Isn't Askew

by carbonatedblood



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Freeform, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Lots of tears, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Pre-Canon, awful pacing, did not expect to make myself emotional here and yet, fidds is oblivious, here we are, not proofreadin because im DUMB AND IM A COWARD, sorta - Freeform, this is so short im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22224694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carbonatedblood/pseuds/carbonatedblood
Summary: stanford ends up confessing his feelings a little sooner than he intended.title (and what prompted me to write this fic): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9lslD6fIVk (i'd recommend listening after you've read !)
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines, fiddauthor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Nothing Worth Loving Isn't Askew

**Author's Note:**

> tw- q slur  
>  _this is my first time writing fanfic in AGES,,, like, im talkin years?? so im sorry if anythin is off!_
> 
> It was a warm, clear-skied spring night in 1973. Fiddleford McGucket, a young mathematical prodigy, had just gone out to the cafe down the street to buy a couple cups of black coffee for him and his roommate- Stanford Pines -as they'd just ran out of beans for their own brewing machine.

Fiddleford gently placed the coffee-filled paper cups he'd been carrying on the ground, being extra careful not to kick them over as he'd accidentally done the previous time he'd went to fetch some beverages for his best friend. After frantically patting himself down for his keys for a couple long seconds, he found them in his back pocket, and opened the door to their dorm room. 

Making sure to close the door behind him as quietly as possible (as to not prompt another noise complaint), Fiddleford stepped into their room. Before he was able to do so much as take his shoes off, he noticed something was... Different. The aura of the room the two shared felt like it had shifted ever so slightly- not significantly enough to warrant legitimate concern, but still distinctly enough for the young genius to notice. It didn't quite give him a feeling of dread, but it definitely made him feel a little uneasy.

As he slid off his shoes, he finally managed to put his finger on it: the room was silent. The usual clicking of pens and turning of pages were nowhere to be heard, and he was _sure_ that Stanford would have let out an exasperated sigh by now.

Out of curiosity and mild concern, he uttered a half-teasing "Fordsy?"

He waited a second for a response. Upon receiving none, he continued speaking as he hung up his coat-

"Now, don't you go givin' me the silent treatment..! Anyways, I'm back from the cafe! They were all out of extra-large cups, so i just got you a large. I hope that's alright."

Still no response. 

As he was hanging up his coat, a loud snore prompted him to look up, only to see Ford passed out at his desk. As much as Fidds expected to see this someday, he hadn't quite anticipated that, of all things, to be what he'd walked in on. 

Even as he slept, the Bluegrass Hits record he and Fiddleford liked to study to was still spinning, as was the small metal fan that the admittedly nerdier of the two kept on his desk.

"Well i'll be darned,", Fiddleford muttered to himself, "the man finally caught some shuteye."

As glad as he was that his best friend had finally taken the time to get some rest, he couldn't help the confusion as to what kind of otherworldly-difficult assignment would lead Stanford, the same man who's stated on far too many occasions that he believes sleep to be a "waste of precious time", to simply up and take a nap like that.

Curious, Fiddleford left the cups on his bedside table and wandered towards Ford's desk to take a peek at whatever had ended him up in his current situation. Maybe he could help him study once he woke up, in the off chance that he was in the mood to accept help.

He began reading the piece of paper at the top of the pile that his roommate appeared to be using as a pillow. _Lord above, was he especially handsome when he slept._... No. He didn't just think that. That's wrong. 

"My dearest friend, it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that I, Stanford Filbrick Pines---" 

Fiddleford's heart skipped a beat. He wiped his glasses on the collar of his shirt to make sure he wasn't misreading that last bit. 

"My dearest friend, it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that I, Stanford Filbrick Pines, have fallen prey to the dopamine, epinephrine, and serotonin that have been plaguing my mind as of late. To put it bluntly, as much as I hate to say it, i have fallen in love with you,---" Ford's sleeping head blocked what could only be assumed to be a name. 

Fidds' heart began racing.

 _Ford? In love..?_ He furrowed his brow. Was he going to lose his best friend, the one person keeping him _stable_ through this mess, to some girl? How is he supposed to deal with that? It's not like he'd been planning for that to happen. After all, Ford vowed to never let a woman distract him from his studies. 

As the realization hit him, everything going on in the back of his mind seemed to stop. 

"Unless...", Fiddleford thought to himself, absentmindedly tugging the hair on the back of his head, "...No. It couldn't be. He's not that kind of guy. Right?"

"Besides, even if he was... _who would he have to love?_ "

Fiddleford sighed, disappointed in himself for even considering it a possibility. That note was probably just meant for some perfect girl he met at the library. That'd explain why he'd been going there so often, anyway.

The scrawny man made the trek back to his bed with much more worry and confusion than he'd initially planned for. 

He laid down, took a deep breath, and turned to the one thing that could hopefully get his mind off things for a bit, at least until Ford woke up; he pulled out fresh pack of chewing tobacco and started quietly strumming the strings of his banjo, and he already felt his troubles begin to melt away. \- 

A few minutes passed, and Stanford awoke with a start. Hearing the familiar sound of his friend's instrument, he called out-

"What? Fiddleford! How long have you been home?"

Fiddleford, previously calmly practicing a new song on his banjo, jumped back out of fear and hit his head on the wall behind him.

With the grace of a newborn hog, he retorted-

"Well howdy to you too, loverboy!", he said, voice cracking, as he caressed the back of his head

Ford felt the blood drain from his face.

"What'd you just call me?"

Fiddleford went silent. He felt his face heat up. _"Did I really just say that?... Oh, Lord help me, I've really gone and screwed it up this time."_ he though to himself. He cleared his throat and decided that attempting to sound confident was his best bet.

Avoiding eye contact as best he could, he stuttered-

"I read your letter, Sta-" He was almost immediately cut off. _So much for sounding confident._

"SHIT!" Ford exclaimed, "No, no, no, no, NO! You weren't supposed to see that! Not yet!" He swiveled back to face his desk, hid his face in his extra digits, and began mumbling to himself under his breath.

"Ford, look." Fiddleford stood up, his posture worse than usual. "I've been thinkin', and I'm perfectly fine with you having a girlfriend!.. As long as you promise not to leave me behind."

Stanford looked up, confused.

"...Girlfriend?" he questioned. Had Fidds _actually_ read his letter, or was he just saying that to mess with him?

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow. "Well... Yeah, isn't that who you were writing that letter of yours to?"

Ford got the chills as the realization of what he'd done fully hit him.

Fiddleford's face of confusion quickly turned to one of concern. He didn't say it, but he was starting to feel guilty about confessing to his mistake in the first place. 

"Ford?" Fidds' leg began bouncing uncontrollably. "Are... Are you cryin'?" He stepped towards Ford's swivel chair, dread and guilt almost overflowing as he crouched beside him. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you, I-" He stuttered, cutting himself off before he could finish his sentence. He could tell his roommate hated his constant rambling, and if there's any time to put effort into cutting that habit, it's now.

Ford wiped his eyes. He was more than ashamed that he'd even started crying in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Fiddleford" He uttered through a tight throat.

"Sorry..?" Fiddleford asked, "For what? You ain't done nothin' wrong." 

Ford silently furrowed his brow, searching for the right thing to say. 

"I'm... I'm sorry for what I'm about to tell you, and I'm sorry that you probably won't be able to look me in the eye anymore afterwards."

"What... What do you mean? Are you switchin' dorms? You.. You aren't leavin' me, are you, Stanford?"

Fiddleford stood back up, light-headed, as Ford sighed, collecting himself. 

"Look. As ashamed as i am to say... Quite the opposite."

Fiddleford looked at the man in front of him with pure confusion. What did he mean? They're already living together, it's not like he was saying he wanted to spend any _more_ time with him. Besides, he's probably already sick of him. 

"That... Letter." He stood up, "It was... I was going to give it to you. I wrote that letter because I'm in love with you, Fiddleford, as much as I wish I wasn't."

 _This time, the world itself seemed to stop._  
Fiddleford felt his heartbeat in his ears. His face felt as if it were melting. He could tell that Ford was still talking, but he couldn't focus on his words. Alarm bells were going off in his head, and they were too loud for Fiddleford to do so much as think. _He was right. He's queer. Stanford, his best friend, was queer, and he was in love with him. Why? What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? He wasn't mad about it like he was supposed to be, in fact, he felt... Good? He was happy. Why was he... happy? Was he queer too? I mean, he did always think Ford was quite handsome, and as much as he wished he didn't, he's always wanted to kiss him. Now that he thinks about it, Ford did make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Talking to him was like enjoying a nice molasses 'pop on a hot day. Was this.. Love? Did he love him back?_

_Before he had time to think, Fiddleford took a shaky breath, walked up to his best friend (who had been pacing around the dorm for the past- how long? Fiddleford had completely lost track of time), and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks._

"Ford, I-" 

"I'm sorry Fidds. You weren't supposed to find out yet. I shouldn't've told you. You don't have to forgive me, I wouldn't forgive me either." 

Fiddleford looked deep into his brown eyes. It was simultaneously the most vulnerable and most strong he'd ever felt. 

Next thing he knew, their lips were touching. _He was kissing his best friend, and somehow, everything began to make sense._ Feeling Ford's arms tightly around his back, his forehead against his own; he felt more secure than he ever had before. He never wanted this moment to end. And yet, as much as he felt that, he pulled away, arms still around his roommate. 

_"I reckon I feel the same way 'bout you, Fordsy."_

Stanford quickly broke the embrace, heading to the bed. 

"What just happened? You can't- You can't like me back! Not like THAT! That's impossible!" Ford's breathing sped up as he spoke. 

Fiddleford sat down next to him, putting a hand on his, before asking a simple "...Why's that?" 

"Because a guy like you- someone like me- together- us, you and me- it's... I'm not supposed to care about romance!" 

Fidds chuckled. He was confused, and definitely a little afraid- but he knew that everything was going to work out. Hell, it'd already started to. 

__"You weren't supposed to end up at Backupsmore either, and look what came of that..?"_ _

The corners of Ford's lips twitched up into a smile, his eyes glistening as he turned to look at Fiddleford. The two shared another kiss, although slightly more coordinated than the previous. 

_"You can tell the truth without being so hurtful, you know."_

Fidds chuckled. "Oh, come on. You know you love me." 

"I know, I know." 

"And I love you too."


End file.
